Out of Sight, Out of Mind
by Patience Tyme1
Summary: She recalled the memory that had awoken her and this internal argument to begin with. She could not find the details, but there was a vague sense of a dream meant to recollect a specific memory. She had dreamt—remembered, really—of a time spent in a series of storage units, and of the thoughts that had plagued her there...


**Shortly after I posted the Dream prompt from yesterday, I saw that SSTL had reached over twenty thousand views. Words cannot express how grateful I am to all of you who have taken the time and effort to read my story. It really means so very much to me :-)**

**As for this piece, it is the sixth one-shot in my Bethyl Week series. As I announced in the previous pieces, this scene is associated with my full-length work entitled Settling, Surviving, Thriving, Living. However, this, unlike some of the previous pieces, is meant to fill a bit of a gap left in the content of SSTL. It is, therefore, new content meant to add deeper meaning to other scenes from the story. Specifically in this case, it details a scene that takes place after the group has escaped Terminus and has, therefore, not been shown on the show.**

**That being said, as always, this one-shot does stand independently while referencing events from 4B and can, therefore, be enjoyed whether you have or have not read the original story :-)**

She awoke with a bit of a start, only to regret it one moment later, as she clasped a hand over her own mouth to silent the gasp of breath she had been in the process of inhaling. After all, she recalled, Daryl was attempting to rest as well, tucked behind her in the tight confines of the tent, which served as their only means of shelter, as they prepared to make the trek north for Eugene.

Suddenly the remembrance of just a few hours previous came crashing upon her, which served to distract her from the stirrings of a particular memory that had awoken her—the reunion, seeing him, embracing him, embracing her sister, and the confessions they had shared.

The smile that had overtaken her face at all the good that had come from their exchanges was wiped away instantly, as her mind recalled a confession paid on his part. It had been made in regards to the stand Daryl had felt forced to make against her sister prior to Beth's joining of the group. He had realized Maggie had completely omitted Beth from any and all of her signs guiding Glenn towards Terminus.

In response, Daryl had grown quite angry, stood up for her, proclaimed that she was the superior sister, based solely in her surge forward in searching for the children and the other members of their family. What's more, he had actually apologized to Beth for engaging in the argument he had incited with Maggie—muttered his mortification that he had made a stand he wasn't so sure was in his rights to make, one that he was uncertain she would've made, had she been there to attempt to do so.

It was true; prior to their time at their moonshine shack, she had not been necessarily been very vocal in her stands. But, if there was one person to whom she felt slightly more assured, it was her sister. The memory of her sorting out Maggie's priorities in seeking to blame Merle for the Governor's impending attack came to her almost instantly. She had argued—flat-out _argued_—at the time, demanding that Maggie focus on what was truly important—fending off the impending attack, not engaging in misguided debates in regards to where blame resided.

No, she thought with a smile as she lowered her hand from her mouth to rest in front of her, she wasn't known for making her stands prior to the moonshine shack, _except_ in regards to Maggie. She thought—rather hoped, actually—that that would've been the case, had her reunion with her family played out in the Box Car instead of the clearing they now claimed as their temporary settlement.

That being said, she couldn't begrudge Daryl his stand; she knew his attempt to defend her had been based in her absence and her resulting inability to do so for herself.

Once again, she recalled the memory that had resurfaced this internal argument to begin with. She couldn't pinpoint what exactly had awoken her, but there was a vague sense of a dream meant to recollect a specific memory. Once the clarification came to her, the realization of its origin followed momentarily—she had dreamt—_remembered, _really—of a time spent in a series of storage units, not so long after the fall of the farm.

For whatever reason, the memory had come to her in her sleep on this particular evening. She had not spared many thoughts for the storage units in the time that had passed since the brief period in which they had called the units their home.

In part, she knew that was due to the fact that what they had found there fundamentally troubled her. To this day the very _memory _of it still stank of pain and anxiety for her. Certainly, the individual units in their sheer number afforded a relative amount of privacy, as she was allowed her own private living space for the very first time since she had parted ways with the herd-ridden farm.

But the items that resided in the units had served to outweigh some of the pleasantness of the privacy; not only did they smell of a permeating essence of must, but they presented a visage akin to the dreaded island of misfit toys. In essence, evidence of all things disregarded and discarded from a person's life lay in wait directly in front of her. Every item in her unit, she realized, was a product that someone had deemed not important enough to be kept within arm's reach.

It plagued her, to be surrounded by such raggedy and musty items—things that had been cast off, items that had obviously not seen the light of day or experienced the touch of their owner for quite some time. Beth couldn't help but feel _sorry_ for the possessions at the time. Although it was an instinctive impulse that she tried desperately to check; after all, that was a silly, innocent and naïve notion that worked to prove the opinion of the others as correct—that she was not equipped to survive this world, that she was little more than a _hanger-on_.

Was that not what her insecurities whispered to her in the dark of night, there in her storage unit? That still continued to whisper to her on the occasional evening when she particularly struggled to fall asleep? _Especially_ there, she thought—in the midst of the must, surrounded by her fellow disregarded items, she felt an affection for them that served only to cyclically prove her own insecurities and the thoughts of the others as correct.

Now, on the other end of the fall of the prison, at the end of the separations and the reunions, she saw just how much common ground she and the abandoned items of her storage unit had shared, just how much she really should've sympathized with her fellow misfit toys.

Maggie hadn't spared a thought for her in the creation of her notations to direct Glenn's attention towards Terminus. Not one mention of her had been made. It was true; she had suspected Maggie's top priority would be Glenn. That did not mean, however, that she expected to be disregarded entirely.

When Daryl had shared this fact with her earlier in the evening, she had done her best to check her own reactions. It was, after all, her default setting to do so—think of the reactions and thoughts of others first; she must only see to her own personal needs after all others were taken care of and attended to.

For a brief moment amidst her current recollections of the memories of earlier, she smiled, as she recalled that her father had taught her that—taught her that the most successful teaching method was to lead by example, to show that the collective benefited from selflessness and that only one could serve to gain from selfishness.

That smile was gone as soon as she applied this lesson to Maggie's behavior. She could appreciate her sister's motivation—after all, in a world such as this one, a love like Maggie had for Glenn was so rare, so immaculately impossible, that it needed to be cherished. However, that did not merit a complete disregard for not only her own sister, but for the safety of their family as a whole; especially, Beth thought, in the case of the children.

Where had they differed, she wondered. What had stirred Beth towards nearly idolizing her father, seeking desperately to soak in every word he had to offer? Alternatively, what had led to Maggie taking his lessons in another manner—one that led her towards cherishing the love of her husband, but not the love and care provided to and by the others?

It perplexed her, but not as much as it saddened her. She rather thought her memory of the misfit toys of her storage unit and her comparison that they obviously weren't so different from Maggie's perception and regard for her should anger her. But it just didn't. She was frustrated, certainly; disappointed in her, obviously. But, most prevailingly, she couldn't help but feel sad—sad for the lack of love and faith her sister seemed to have, not only in her, but towards an investment to the rest of their family.

Was it living, she wondered? Was it truly _living_ to have a shared emotional attachment—_dependence_, really, if she were to be completely cruelly honest in her characterization of the commitment her sister and brother-in-law shared. On it's own, perhaps it was; if that other person and the resulting dependence that developed was all one had left in the world after the turn, that would be living, she supposed.

But when there were others to care for? When there were others who perhaps, occasionally, needed attention more pressingly than the significant other needed? Beth didn't even mean to apply this concept to her sister's lack of regard in the search for her; it was her lack of concern of the children that truly worked to worm its way under her skin. Was it okay to disregard a search for the children to heed the needs of that steady singular love? To allow it to fill you up to the point where no other individual received even the slightest regard in return?

It was a sort of living, she supposed. It was different from the walling up of the heart that Daryl had engaged in within his life of servitude to Merle, an action he saw to once again after the group learned that the search for Sophia was rendered moot as she was, in fact, lost to the barn for good. But it still wasn't truly thriving, Beth thought—not in the sense that more attachments, more connections, more relationships of familial love were required to truly be a well-rounded individual.

In essence, she supposed this is what had brought on the flash of that memory from so long ago. Glenn was the only occupant of Maggie's home, severing simultaneously as a symbol of the structure and the comforting knickknacks she insisted on keeping always within a reach of her arm.

Beth, on the other hand, along with the other members of their family, appeared to be demoted to surviving on the island of misfit toys—sentenced to the storage unit, only to be summoned when the idle thought crossed her mind, only to be removed from storage at times of convenience or necessity. Out of sight, out of mind.

The parallel struck by the comparison had her mind edging towards a panic, as the very insecurities she revealed to Daryl on the porch of their moonshine shack reappeared. He had insisted that she had changed, adapted to survive this world—that the others would see it too. But, somehow, she just knew that wasn't in her nature, knew that wasn't wholly true; if she were to be dropped back into that storage unit at this very moment, she would still feel sorry for the possessions she surrounded herself in.

Cruelly, a voice whispered to her that no one who was made to survive a world like this could be prompted to feel sad for inanimate objects. She felt her body tuck in upon itself, curling into a fetal position as more harsh things whispered to her.

In her shifting, her right shoulder blade made contact lightly with Daryl. Almost instantly, the whispers ceased. With a smile, she remembered all the things he had taught her since her confession at their moonshine shack—how to hunt and how to track.

In turn, she recalled easily the memory of imparting this same information to Father Gabriel. It had started with her harnessing her own talents, as she worked to persuade him to return her to where he had found her, where he had picked her up in the hopes of keeping her safe from the Walkers invading the funeral home. He had done this, of course, without realizing he was taking her from her one person, the one of their family with whom she could develop a structure of her own home—her own _life_.

From there, the lessons just kept coming forth, as she taught the Father how to survive in this world. In the process, she confirmed for herself that she had changed, and, here, now—yet again—she could reaffirm herself of the same conclusion. She had been able to teach Father Gabriel based purely in her confidence that Daryl's teachings could not only aid her in her own survival, but that they could also help her keep the Father going. Somehow she knew, with a little patience on her part, that Daryl would be the one to help her find not only him, but her entire family.

She had not only managed all of these things, she rather thought she had passed with flying colors, as she recalled the proud smile he had subtly thrown her way as she recollected the memories of her time with the Father to their family earlier in the evening.

With a small glance over her shoulder, Beth found her body working to tuck itself in closer to him, almost as if by some subconscious pull. Yes, Maggie may have her priorities twisted, mangled and misguided. But Beth didn't. She and Daryl could develop a structure, shared an _attachment_—he meant quite a lot to her; she would do almost anything to find him and keep him by her side. But, equally, she needed her knickknacks nearby—her _entire _family nearby—to truly thrive and live. She was, above all else, equally as desperate to find and protect _all_ of the others.

Maggie may not have that ingrained example of selflessness, as Beth had picked up from her father. But she could show her what it felt like—how fulfilling it could be to put the needs of the group above the needs of one. With a smile, she couldn't help but think that doing so would undoubtedly put a smile to her daddy's face, wherever he may rest.


End file.
